


(we were always) inevitable

by cloverblob



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Feelings, Maybe angsty???, Post-Episode: s03e08 Are You Leading or Am I?, Slow Romance, idk villanelle's still not totally okay after russia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:36:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24550129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloverblob/pseuds/cloverblob
Summary: "It's your turn to seduce me, Eve."
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 6
Kudos: 132





	(we were always) inevitable

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place very shortly after the Season 3 finale.

Admittedly, it’s not their first kiss.

It feels like it though.

Eve advances. She can smell that perfume on Villanelle from a metre away. It’s fucking intoxicating.

Sitting at Eve’s kitchen island counter, Villanelle is almost completely still, as though she might scare Eve away if she were to move even an inch.

She likes that it’s Eve’s decision. She likes that she has her hair up in a lazy bun, the remains of their dinner on her breath, and she’s still wanted. She likes that she didn’t have to do a single thing to draw Eve’s attention.

Eve shifts her entire body into Villanelle’s space, and puts a gentle hand to her waist.

Villanelle mirrors the motion, and she can’t help the way her eyelashes flutter when she feels Eve’s breath on her cheek.

Eve smiles, just a little, and it makes Villanelle grin when she finally closes the gap between them and their lips meet. All Villanelle feels is the heat of Eve’s body against her, and she can no longer remain still. She raises her hand to cup Eve’s face as they lose themselves into the kiss.

She leans forward, neck straining, needing to be as close as possible. It’s enough for her to stumble off the bar stool, knocking Eve a bit off balance. They both awkwardly shuffle backward until Eve’s lower back hits the kitchen sink.

With quick reflexes, their lips break apart and Villanelle catches Eve by the waist so she doesn’t fall further, holding her tightly.

“This is familiar,” Eve says breathily.

Villanelle smiles at the memory.

For a second, they just stare into the other’s eyes, taking the time to imprint this moment into their minds forever. Eve takes the chance to slide her hand under Villanelle’s shirt and then—

“Eve!” Villanelle exclaims, pulling away abruptly. “What are you doing! I’m married!”

Eve blinks.

“What are people going to say?” Villanelle continues, shaking her head and looking absolutely scandalized.

“Ha. Ha,” Eve replies humourlessly, reaching her hand out to pull Villanelle back to her.

Villanelle dodges the hand, sliding her way back to the counter and picking up her wine glass. She was disappointed to find out that Eve didn’t have a single bottle of champagne in her fridge, but took a sip of the dark red nonetheless.

“Are you serious right now?” Eve asks, eyebrow raised.

“She’s Spanish,” Villanelle comments, putting her glass back down. “She would be very jealous that you just made moves on me.”

Eve sighs, shaking her head. She recomposes herself, and returns to her own seat beside Villanelle. Slightly frustrated, she picks up her glass and finishes the entire thing in a couple swallows and then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Manners, Eve,” Villanelle chastises, handing her a napkin.

Eve grumbles, discarding the serviette immediately onto her plate. She looks at Villanelle pointedly, waiting for an explanation.

“Thank you for the dinner,” Villanelle says casually, wiping her own mouth delicately with her napkin. “But you’re not a very good cook. Next time, I will make something for us both.”

“What’s her name?” Eve asks, ignoring her histrionics.

“Who?”

Eve rolls her eyes. “Your _wife_.”

“Oh, yeah,” Villanelle says, shrugging. “Debra.”

“Debra?” Eve repeats, eyes narrowed.

“Yes.” Obviously.

“Debra,” Eve repeats again. “ _Spanish..._ _Debra_.”

Villanelle gives her a fake guilty expression. “Okay, maybe I forgot her name. But I really am married. I think.”

Eve sighs again.

“You know, don’t have to do that,” she says.

“Do what?” Villanelle asks innocently.

“Deflect.”

“I’m not,” she says, flippant.

“I _want_ to be intimate with you. You don’t have to be afraid,” Eve tells her, injecting a heaviness back into their conversation.

Villanelle swallows thickly, dropping her impish expression.

Eve waits, giving her a moment to sober.

“I’m not afraid,” Villanelle replies, firmly.

Eve gives her a look, calling her on her bullshit.

Villanelle stares at her for a few moments before answering carefully. Truthfully. “You walked away from me before.”

“Can you blame me?” Eve challenges without skipping a beat.

Villanelle bites the inside of her cheek and turns away. No.

Not wanting to push Villanelle too far too soon, Eve pushes her stool away from the counter and begins to clean up the remnants of their dinner. She gathers all the plates and cutlery to rinse off in the sink, leaving the wine glasses where they lay.

When Eve is finished, Villanelle is still sitting in that same spot, watching.

“I don’t want to seduce you,” Villanelle says suddenly.

Eve turns, once again with her back leaning against the kitchen sink. She wipes her wet hands on her dish towel.

“Well, you’re succeeding so far,” Eve replies dryly.

“I love you, Eve,” Villanelle says. Her tone is harsh, unforgiving—it doesn’t fit the words. “I don’t want you if you’re not ready.”

“I—“ Eve starts almost immediately.

“—No,” Villanelle interrupts. “I know you like me. But you’re not ready.”

“You’re suddenly in charge of my feelings, now?” Eve asks, offended. She throws the dish towel down on the counter with just a little too much force.

“I’m in charge of _my_ feelings,” Villanelle explains. “I don’t want you to break my heart.”

Eve softens her expression, but crosses her arms tightly across her chest. She will need some time to adjust to Villanelle’s newfound sensitivity.

“I’m the one who’s kissed you,” Eve says. “ _Twice.”_

Villanelle smiles. “Yes, they were very good kisses. Thank you.”

Eve laughs. Just when she thinks she understands the other woman, Eve gets thrown for another loop. She doesn’t know where to go from here and settles for dragging her feet as she makes her way to sit on her bed; the only other place to sit down in the tiny apartment that isn’t directly beside Villanelle.

“What’s so funny?” Villanelle asks, turning around on the kitchen stool to face her.

Eve throws herself backward to lay down and stare up at the ceiling.

“ _You’ve_ been flirting with me for _a year!”_ Eve exclaims, then exhales loudly.

“I know.”

“ _You_ send me gifts, and flowers, and postcards!”

“I know.”

“ _You’ve_ been trying to seduce me!”

“I know,” Villanelle says again, standing up from the stool and making her way toward Eve. She stands between Eve’s legs at the foot of the bed and looks down at her.

Eve stares up at Villanelle curiously. The crappy apartment lighting is right above Villanelle’s head, and she’s not quite able to make out all of the features on her face.

“I like it when you chase me,” Villanelle tells her.

“Is that what you want?” Eve asks. She pulls herself upright, Villanelle still standing between her legs and looks up at her directly.

Villanelle nods. Now that they’re closer, and Villanelle's face is no longer shadowed under the bedroom light, Eve can see the redness that has begun to pool in her eyes. Her lids look puffy, and it’s clear she’s biting on the insides of her cheeks to stop tears from falling.

“It’s your turn to seduce me, Eve.”

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive me, I'm still trying to find their voices in my head. Next few chapters will be longer. Let me know what you think ❤️


End file.
